At the bottom of a dark valley, beside the riverside ruins of a gruesome ambush, Dorothy sat on a cold, damp rock. The letter in her hand was lit faintly by the gaslight flickering nearby. Her brows furrowed, her expression serious as she read its contents once more, thoughts racing through her mind.

  To be honest, what she read had caught her completely off guard.

  From the letter, she could deduce several things. The man she’d just shot—this supposed gang leader—was named Edrick. And judging by the way the letter addressed him and what it revealed, he was a local underworld figure of some influence, probably holding sway over a pce called Vulcan.

  Apparently, Edrick had recently attempted to join some kind of shadowy organization—he’d even sent them an application letter. The document now in Dorothy’s hand was their response.

  It was a reply offering him a special entry trial. And the content of that trial?

  He was to abduct a thirteen-year-old white-haired girl at a specific time and pce.

  There was no doubt.

  That girl… was her.

  The reason these so-called bandits had attacked the caravan wasn’t for loot, or horses, or anything material.

  They were after her—a pin, ordinary country girl!?

  What the hell is this!?

  Dorothy pressed her fingertips to her forehead, trying to make sense of it all. Frowning, she dived back into the inherited memories of this body’s original owner—herself, but not quite. She searched through every corner of her life up until now, looking for anything that stood out.

  But… there was nothing.

  She had always been well-behaved, smart, diligent, and hardworking. She had no money. No strange powers. No mysterious marks in her eyes. No hidden seals or demonic contracts carved into her soul.

  At most, her hair and eye color were a little unusual, but that was hardly worth the effort of a secret society!

  Why would anyone go so far just for someone like me?

  No matter how much she thought about it, the answer remained elusive. Eventually, she gave up with a sigh and decided to focus on other clues from the letter.

  The mysterious organization itself was still shrouded in secrecy—no name, no crest, no identifying mark. But one thing was crystal clear:

  They were bad news.

  After all, they had dealings with Edrick—a known thug—and even hired him to perform a kidnapping. They were clearly avoiding both the Church and an agency called the Serenity Bureau.

  She didn’t know much about the Church yet, but an organization trying to avoid a group that sounded as official as the Serenity Bureau had to be some kind of criminal syndicate. Otherwise, Edrick—a literal bandit—wouldn’t have been so eager to join them.

  Another term stuck in her mind as well:

  "extraordinary realm"... "extraordinary item"...

  Her gaze turned to the pile of items she’d looted earlier from Edrick’s corpse—the so-called spoils of battle. She rummaged through them briefly and pulled out a ring—one she’d taken off Edrick’s hand earlier. At the time, she’d just assumed it might fetch a decent price.

  Now, though…

  She held the ring under the gaslight and examined it more carefully.

  It was made entirely of bronze, and on the outer edge, faint engravings could be seen—tiny, densely packed figures that looked like strange little people holding hands, dancing in a circle.

  From what she recalled in the letter, Edrick had possessed an item called the Corpse Marionette Ring, an extraordinary object capable of maniputing the dead.

  This has to be it... right?

  Dorothy slipped the ring onto her index finger.

  And the moment she did—

  She felt it.

  A sudden, sharp sensation, like her consciousness had extended outward, threads of awareness stretching like strands of invisible silk. They reached far beyond her immediate self, and their ends...

  ...settled on the two grotesque hunting dogs lying motionless on the ground.

  Her breath caught.

  On instinct, she sent out a mental command.

  The dogs—dead moments ago—twitched.

  Their limbs spasmed, then stiffly pushed against the ground. With jerky, unnatural movements, they stood up, one leg at a time, and began slowly limping toward her.

  Their bodies were clearly damaged. The Dragon Shout from earlier had smashed them to the ground, leaving their bones visibly twisted. They moved with uneven, halting steps—limping, dragging themselves like broken puppets.

  So they were corpses all along…

  It finally made sense.

  These dogs had been raised by the power of this Corpse Marionette Ring. Edrick had been controlling them with it all along. No wonder they’d stopped moving the moment he died.

  That thug… had been in possession of a true extraordinary item.

  And now?

  So did she.

  Dorothy blinked, her lips slightly parted as she watched the two hunting hounds—clearly corpses—rise again under her command. The eerie, stilted movements, the way their bodies dragged across the ground... it was all undeniably real.

  This was no illusion. No parlor trick.

  In all the memories she'd inherited from the original Dorothy, nothing like this had ever appeared. What she had just witnessed went far beyond the mundane. It was something extraordinary—something that shattered her old worldview.

  “So this world isn’t as simple as it looks…”

  She murmured to herself while gently touching the strange ring on her finger. Then, her eyes drifted toward the second envelope she had retrieved from Edrick’s coat.

  Without hesitation, she tore it open and unfolded the letter inside. Compared to the previous one, this message was much shorter—straight to the point.

  . . . . . .

  Dear Mr. Edrick,

  We have received your reply. As expected, you did not pass up this rare opportunity.

  Our courier is already en route to Vulcan with the reward that will soon be yours.

  After you have secured the target, simply photograph her and pce the photo into the mailbox in front of the abandoned house at 24 North Street, Vulcan.

  Once the photo is verified, we will meet you at midnight the following night, in the heart of the forest west of Vulcan. Bring the girl to us, and you shall receive your reward in full.

  Our representative will remain in Vulcan for three days, awaiting your message.

  We wish you a smooth operation.

  . . . . . .

  Finishing the letter, Dorothy pced it back into the envelope, then slipped both messages into her bag.

  It was now clear: the second letter had been a response to Edrick’s earlier reply—a follow-up from the mysterious organization.

  ‘So they have agents in Vulcan already… and that’s exactly where I’m heading next.’

  That realization made her frown. She’d have to be cautious when entering the town. She still didn’t know what this shadowy group wanted from her, but given their methods and their partnership with criminals like Edrick, it couldn’t be anything good.

  “Better stay off the radar for now…”

  She muttered to herself as she pulled out her dagger and sliced a strip of curtain cloth from the overturned carriage. Splitting the fabric in two, she used one half to bundle up her gathered “spoils,” and the other half she fashioned into a makeshift headscarf—something to cover her distinct white hair when entering town.

  Once all her preparations were done, Dorothy finally set out.

  For safety, she continued to use the Corpse Marionette Ring to keep the two zombie hounds moving beside her like bodyguards. But as they stumbled and limped pathetically along the roadside, it became increasingly clear just how badly they’d been damaged.

  ‘I didn’t think that Dragon Shout of mine would be that powerful…’

  The dogs could still move, yes—but they were no longer combat-capable. Their bones were broken, joints misaligned, and they could barely stay upright.

  With a sigh, Dorothy decided they were more of a burden than a help. With a thought, she severed the mental threads connecting her to them. The hounds colpsed instantly, lifeless once again.

  She turned her gaze to Edrick’s corpse—still sprawled on the ground nearby.

  Out of curiosity, she reached out with her will again, extending the “threads” from the ring.

  And this time—

  They tched on.

  His body trembled, then slowly, shakily, began to rise.

  There he stood: Edrick, or rather, his corpse. Eyes vacant, skin pale, expressionless and unfeeling.

  Dorothy inhaled sharply.

  “You’ll do... for now.”

  With that, the newly-risen corpse silently bent down and picked up the discarded gas ntern. Then, he took up the bck umbrel and held it above her head, shielding her from the misting rain.

  He looked for all the world like a solemn butler in service to a noble dy.

  Dorothy adjusted her belongings, gave one final gnce at the blood-soaked valley behind her, and with her newly acquired “servant” in tow, departed the scene of the massacre.

  Zaztra_Vandesh